


Holding Hands And Holding Grudges

by mnm_moons



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Assassin AU, Criminal Actions, Crushes, Falling Outs, Family Grudges, Human AU, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia au but gay, Past Relationships, Pining, Violence, a blood feud that includes death, and added in a sprinkle of gay, because really... im obsessed with romeo and juliet instances, blatant heirarchy in the groups, but barely, come to think of it im trash for a lot of things, do you see where im coming from?, give them guns and knives, i mean that should be clear, im planning on it, im trash for pining lovers, its an illegal group, its like if you take romeo and juliet, nothing from your normal assassin au death, rival gangs whos leaders are passed from bloodline, slowburn, sort of a romeo and juliet thing because im trash for family feuds, sort of ig, teenage rebellion babey, the chapter titles are r&j references, there are deaths but ya know, there is violence in this, there will be angst here, theres always pining, yeah im a literary genius haha, you could tell really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-09-19 18:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17007291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnm_moons/pseuds/mnm_moons
Summary: There's history in this part of the world.There's a story of a family rivalry.And it starts with a love story.As living descendants of two separate gangs, Roman Prince and Virgil Knight were both raised being fed information.They were taught the art of their family businesses. One was taught to kill, the other taught to lie. The Prince and the Knight were raised with different fairy tales and different stories, but there was one thing the boys were both taught at an early age— to hate each other.A blood grudge between the two rival families going nearly a hundred year ago survives as an existing and valid excuse to hate each other. A blood grudge between two rival families outlived most and took lives of others.A blood grudge between two rival families have the power to tear two people apart.





	1. Two Households, Both Alike In Dignity

_There's history in this part of the world._

_There's a story of a family rivalry._

_And it starts with a love story._

Downtown Los Angeles in the 1920s was a wild ride, and in that ride were two individuals. One went by the legal name "Remy Wake," and the other went by the alias "Deceit Night."

These two were both very different. Mr. Wake was a known Italian immigrant who held himself out as somewhat of a business man, but everyone knew he traded the wrong type of business. A man would speak with Remy, and the next thing you know, half way across the town, the man's enemy would be dead and the man who most definitely ordered the murder would pay the shady Remy Wake. But hey... correlation did not mean causation, didn't it?

Deceit Night, however, was a politically correct man. He paid his taxes and was held at high regard, but paying taxes did not get you to heaven. Deceit was responsible for the smuggling of illegal firearms in and out of the city, and everyone knew it. But... well, he had his connections. A man who paid taxes, went to church, and always donated to the government with suspicious amounts of money? How could he be evil? 

Wake and Night both had their reputations in California. Remy ran a business, and Night ran his own. They were men of their words, both abiding to their promises. Despite the differences in their business however, Remy and Deceit slowly became known acquaintances.

They were often found together, walking around the area, an aura of arrogance and self-righteousness around them, like a thick veil separating their forms from the rest of the world. 

Whenever they were found accompanying each other, it was a spectacle to be seen. Many would pause and bow their heads as if in fearing respect for the males, but some would show forced indifference, avoiding eye contact and uncertainly walking by them with beads of sweat dotting their faces. Wake and Night were a duo to be reckoned with. They were immovable object and unstoppable force. 

But soon, occasional sightings of the two would turn into common sights. Outings increased, and the two gave each other eyes uncommon between two males. Rumors spread quickly.

Whispers came hushed when they pair walked by. Side eyes were given and glances were sneaked. But no one acted. They were all too afraid of the powerful pair. The braver ones would get closer, would follow the two about a block or so. The braver ones would end up dead within a week. Soon, the braver ones came to be known as the idiotic ones. And the idiotic ones became known as the dead ones.

Wake and Night's relationship became the talk of town. 

_"I heard Wake spent the night in the other's company last week."_

_"I heard the two were found with hands together last month."_

_"There are interesting marks in Night's neck, and the only company he'd had was Wake."_

A year of shared company between the underground weaponry supplier and the leader of a web of hitmen and shady people turned into two. And then three. And then five.

And that's when it all fell apart.

Remy's hitman business had long since expanded into hundreds of members across America, each pledged into Remy's control and protection, most commonly described as a mafia. One order from their leader and hundreds could end up dead. Remy became known and feared. Deceit supplied his companion with weaponry and supplies. Together, the two controlled governments themselves. 

It was common knowledge of their partnership. Whether it extended from friends to lovers, but there were speculations. There were conveniently blurry pictures of held hands and out of view faces, and one that got most peoples attentions: two boys, kissing. Their faces were out of view.

But something happened in that cold December air. Something no one else knew about except the two powerful forces. There were murmurs, though. It was rumored that Deceit wanted more from Remy's business, whether it was blood of people in power or currency. There was a less popular rumor that Remy demanded more from Deceit's weaponry supply to wipe out a group of government officials. Some merely speculated it as a falling out and nothing else.

No one knew, really, but facts were clear. 

One December morning, and the two had gone separate ways. They no longer engaged in friendly conversation in local cafes, no longer took long walks across the parks, and no longer interacted in both public and their homes. Everything had shifted.

In a year, Remy fathered his own children and raised his own family, albeit he seemed unhappy with his wife. In two, Deceit had done the same, expanding the family name.

In ten, Remy would be found with a gun in his hand, standing up with a thin sheen of sweat in his face. Deceit would be found with his own gun, too, but he'd be sprawled in the street, blood gushing out of the hole right above his ribcage.

Deceit would be dead. Remy would escape the authorities with his status among his mafia. Nothing else would be known.

But stories were passed down just as the blood was.

* * *

**PRESENT DAY**

 

Two existing gangs.

Two existing bloodlines.

Two existing heirs. 

One existing rivalry.

Virgil Knight and Roman Prince would be raised with different stories of the same ancestors. Virgil Knight and Roman Prince would be raised with different skill sets of the same shady business.

One would be taught the deadly language of assassination, and the other would be taught the language of lies and deception to get his ways. One would be from the Night bloodline, and the other would be from the Wake.

Virgil Knight was taught the story of the betrayal of Remy Wake. He'd be taught the story of how his ancestor trusted a charmer better than he, and the charmer would ultimately end the life of Deceit. Virgil Knight was taught the art of lies, falsery, deception, and charm. He'd be taught how to get what he wanted without a hassle.

Roman Prince, however, would be taught the story of the betrayal of Deceit Night. He'd be taught the story of how Deceit ended the friendship, and how Remy was only protecting himself from the snake he'd grown familiar with. Roman would be taught to kill and to lead. He'd be taught how to move in secrecy and fatally.

Despite the hundred year grudge between two families, the partnership would not end. The Nights, now presently known as Knights, would still supply the Wakes, now presently known as Princes. The business wouldn't suffer, but the grudge would hold. 

And the heirs would have to make sure of that. It was basic tradition to teach your heirs the history and the grudge. It was basic tradition that when your heirs finally meet each other, they'd have to shoot each other the most hateful of glares.

This year, both heirs of the existing gangs would finally meet. This year, the heirs of the Nights and Wakes would meet at a well known casino and discuss their plans for their partnership and future.

Logan Knight, the current leader of the Knight mafia walked into the casino like he owned the place, which he probably could, with his son Virgil in tow. Both wore black tuxes, body guards trailing behind them a few steps back. 

"Virgil," Logan muttered quietly, scanning the area.

"Yeah?" His son replied, voice monotone and without emotion, just like he'd been taught at an early age.

"The meeting will begin in thirty minutes, at the highest floor. Walk around and meet me there later."

"Yes, dad."

Logan glanced at Virgil with a serious look in his icy blue eyes. "Behave yourself, Virgil." It sounded almost threatening, borderline warning. Virgil, despite knowing his father wouldn't do anything to harm him, flinched and nodded.

And with that short exchange, the two were separated, guards separating into two to trail father and son from a distance. Virgil made his way across the casino, walking about and scanning the area with quick, casual glances. His hands stayed put in his pockets and his expression stayed cold, calm, and collected. 

With swift movements, Virgil navigated himself away from large crowds, not paying mind for his guards, squeezing through machines, and eventually finding himself in the bar. Shrugging, Virgil made his way to the bar and sat himself down on one of the bar seats, his storm gray eyes scanning every face, making sure none escape his gaze.

Just to the far corner of the bar sat a teen wearing a bright pink tie and wide rimmed glasses. To the left, a woman in a red dress flirted with a man in a suit. He met the gaze of another teen with dyed blue hair. He blinked their gaze away in favor of watching around the crowd.

"What's a guy like you sitting around in a bar without a date for?" a voice shook Virgil out of his thoughts. 

The young existing heir of the Night mafia jumped at the interruption. Someone had snuck up to him. Someone who could have killed him in the mere minutes he was distracted. Reprimanding himself silently, Virgil acted calm, turning his expression of shock into indifference as he turned from his stool to catch the face of the guy who caught him unaware.

His mouth went dry. 

Standing before him with a playful smirk stood a teen with honey brown hair and gold speckled eyes, surrounded by thick lashes. He stood at a taller height than Virgil and had broader shoulders. Tanned skin hid under a white tux with a gold bowtie. Virgil couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. He was attractive.

Forming his own playful smile, Virgil shrugged. "I could be asking you the same thing."  _That was lame._ "Now, why would a man like you be trying to charm me?"

The stranger took a seat on an open bar stool next to the amused Knight. "Just a guy out for some company on this lovely night. I swing both ways." He offered Virgil a flirtatious wink.

Virgil kept his unimpressed face. "Perhaps I could offer you a request to swing my way," he responded swiftly.

The male looked Virgil up and down, almost calculatingly. "Trust me," he smirked, "I already am."

From his wrist, Virgil's watch began to softly beep. The Knight checked the time before sighing and turning the alarm off. "I'll be heading somewhere now," he excused himself. "It was a pleasure talking to you."

"I don't see how your departure would mean the end of our interaction."

The teen in the black tux raised a quizzical brow. The teen in the white tux gestured for his hand. Tentatively, Virgil let the stranger hold his hand and raise his sleeve to expose paper pale skin. Virgil watched as the stranger took out a gold mettalic pen from his pocket and scribbled tilted numbers on Virgil's arm.

Phone number, Virgil realized. He refrained from smiling victoriously as the stranger finished up the exchange with a signature. In fairy-tale like cursive, the male signed off his arm with a name— _Roman_. Next to his name, the male doodled a crown, and before Virgil could do anything about it, Roman had gone and disappeared into the crowd, just as mysteriously as he appeared.

Letting a smile linger on his lips for a moment, Virgil let out a gentle breath. The surviving heir of the Nights let his sleeve cover the number and name scrawled on his skin before walking himself to the elevator, small grin still on his face.

He listened silently to the low thrum of the elevator going higher as classical music filled the elevator with a whimsical tune. The blinking numbers of floors grew higher and higher before softly coming to a stop in the top floor. 

The elevator door opened, giving the young Knight a view of an extending hall, long and spacious with evenly placed doors on either wall. Virgil's heavy shoes made a satisfying sound as he walked down the hallway and made a turn to the right.  _Thump, thump, thump._

On the door furthest down the hall stood two sets of guards, standing across each other in military stances. Virgil recognized the ones standing on the left side of the hall as him and his father's. With a tilt of his head, Virgil guessed the opposing guards were the Princes protection.

He nodded to his guards who acknowledged him with blinks. Virgil turned the door knob, and the heavy smell of rich businessmen wafted into his nose. He stepped inside the dimly lit room, spacious but filled only with a large, circular table. 

Quiet filled the teens ears as let the door close behind him, walking to the table and standing next to his father obediently. Across from his spot of the table stood another man, shorter than Logan but with a wider frame. The man and Logan stayed engaged in a silent staring contest, frowns on their faces. 

 _Thomas Prince_ , Virgil identified in his mind. He looked the man up and down.  _Looks better than in the pictures the news stories cover._

Thomas's lips curled to a smile, but he looked almost taunting as he held Logan's gaze. "Oh, you must forgive my son's being late," Thomas apologized with a flick of his wrist. 

Logan looked almost pained as he gritted out, "It isn't a problem, Wake—" Thomas frowned at that, but he made no move to correct Logan "— I know how teenagers can be."

For the first time since Virgil entered the room, Thomas studied Virgil, brown eyes intensely scanning every part of him. The Knight couldn't help but feel like Thomas was plotting his murder. 

"Yes," Thomas responded, making direct eye-contact with the rival mafia's heir. "I suppose you would know."

Electricity buzzed in the air, threatening to blow the room and it's inhabitants up with so much as a glance.

Thankfully, before anything would turn for the worst, the gentle noise of a turning knob interrupted the tension in the air. Heavy footsteps walked towards the table, around Virgil, and next to Thomas. 

Virgil kept his gaze on the floor.

It was Thomas's small chuckle that caused Virgil to look up, his storm gray eyes meeting with golden speckled hazel ones. For a moment, the two heirs stared at each other, frozen at the circumstance they found themselves in. 

It was Roman who broke the frozen trance, eyes crinkling in amusement before smirking a deadly smirk. The writing on Virgil's arm itched, but the Knight ignored it, following tradition and glaring at the heir of the Prince gang. A conflicted voice in his mind groaned exhasperatedly.

 _Of all the people in the world,_ the voice in his mind huffed,  _this is the one guy who decides to flirt with me?!_

A new kind of tension replaced the one before it, sparked by the teens' silent challenging looks. Their glares and smirks matched the intensity of a roaring flame, warm but deadly.

"Well, gentlemen," the elder Prince began, letting himself sit on the chairs provided, "shall our meeting begin?"


	2. In Fair California Where We Lay Our Scene

_"Is this seat taken?"_

Deceit's eyes trailed up to the person who'd spoken, annoyed by the sudden interruption. He froze as his eyes met the others.

The man who had spoken to him stuck out in the slightly crowded cafe, dark mocha eyes intensely focusing on Deceit, his moderately curly hair swept to the side and peeking under a fedora. Covering the most of his body was a pinstripe suit and matching pants with black leather oxford shoes.

Deceit's face blasted red. Not because the man was particularly attractive— which he was, by the way —but because of where the man had gestured to sit: Deceit's lap. 

Deceit had never been rendered out of comebacks or words to say, and he didn't intend for this moment to be the end of his streak. "I'd rather not it be," Deceit responded coolly, turning his gaze back to the newspaper he held in front of him.

A laugh, melodic and deep. "Well, all right then, Mrs. Grundy." Deceit suffocated a smile when he heard the chair in front of him scrape the ground and creak as the man sat down. "Do you know who I am?"

Deceit spared a glance at the man and shrugged. "Remy Wake," he answered nonchalantly. "The rumored-to-be gang leader, cause of death of multiple men, and pain in my ass starting two minutes ago."

The corner of Remy's lips tugged upwards at that comment, visibly amused at the comment. Even though Deceit didn't look up from his newspaper, he could feel Remy's gaze on his face. It was charming to have someone look at him like that, but at the same time, it was equally terrifying how there was something calculatingly threatening in the gaze.

With a sharp intake of breath, Deceit put down the newspaper and stared back at Remy, direct eye contact wracking up an electric storm. 

"I expect a man of your position come to me for something important," Deceit sighed, twirling his hand on th e air dismissively as if to move things along. 

"You act as if you aren't the least bit interested in me," Remy commented, completely avoiding the question. Childish. Playful. Careless.

Deceit gave him a firm stare, devoid of emotion. It looked almost like a warning, maybe borderline threat. Remy rolled his eyes— a mystical and cloudy grey —and sighed. "That's a pity," the man muttered, clearly disappointed by Deceit's response, or rather lack of.

Shockingly, Remy's face matched Deceit's stare, the playful warmth of his eyes and flirtatious smirk wiped out and replaced with a look just as serious as Deceit's. The sudden change sent a shiver up Deceit's spine.  _An actor,_ Deceit's subconscious snarled.  _A threat._

* * *

The occurrence of last night buzzed by Virgil's head at a million miles an hour as he recalled the meeting nearly twelve hours ago.

The young successor of the infamous gang sat down a spacious bedroom decorated with band posters and edgy decor from his still ongoing emo phase, still in last night's clothes despite the event having been hours ago. Early morning sunlight poured through dark curtains.

Virgil couldn't sleep most nights. 

There was a pressure building inside the teen with the expectations and commands being given to him at such an early age, and as a result, to build the perfect leader, sacrifices must be made. Even if it was sleep. 

Usually, he stared at the ceiling until he eventually passed out from exhaustion. It got lonely most nights, and yeah, the silence of the night was enough to drive most people insane, but the familiarity of the quiet calmed the apprehensive boy.

Tonight, however, the silent night drove Virgil off the edge. With his father having been too busy to tend to his son and his lack of another paternal figure, Virgil felt confined in a world where only he existed. Somewhere, a clock ticked.

Virgil stood up and walked to the bathroom, eyes heavy with sleep and mouth pulled to a dead frown. He switched the bathroom lights on and his reflection greeted him.

His grey eyes regarded his reflection without emotion. Sighing, Virgil turned the faucet on, the faint sound of the ticking clock was covered with the soft sound of water. He raised his sleeve to prevent it from getting wet. 

A glimmer of gold caught his eye.

Ten digits signed with a gold name and a crown, all in gold metallic ink. Virgil eyed the digits, a numb feeling in his stomach. He wet one of his hands and made to wipe the gold away before stopping himself.

The successor of the Knight family paused. Wordlessly, Virgil turned the sink faucet off. He walked back into his room, dug his phone out of his pocket, and dialed the number.

It rang once.  _What am I doing?_

It rang twice.  _I can't talk to the enemy!_

It rang three times.  _I just want to feel something._

"Hello? Hello, this Roman Prince, who am I speaking to?"

For a moment, Virgil just let himself listen to the voice on the other side of the screen. Roman didn't sound tired. He didn't drawl out his vowels or pause. Probably been awake for a time, Virgil guessed.

"Hi," The Knight successor breathed with a short sigh. 

An electrifying pause on the other side of the screen. "Virgil?" Roman's voice asked cautiously. Virgil could practically hear the smile on Roman's face through the screen. "Well, holy shit.... Virgil Knight is this you?"

Virgil let out a hollow laugh. "Unless you've given out your number to more boys last night, then the definite answer would be yes," he answered simply.

"Hm." Footsteps echoed through what sounded like an empty hallway. "That's fair. Now, why would the child of my rival family be talking to me on this fine and dandy day?"

 _Because I have no one else to talk to and you were the only person who I had actual contact with,_ Virgil answered truthfully in his mind. "Teenage rebellion, babe," he joked. 

Roman laughed, but it was clear he was hushing himself. Barely above a whisper, Roman replied, "I'm on pet name status now, huh?"

Virgil snorted. "What are you even doing right now?" He asked.

The sharp click of a gun being loaded echoed in the same environment. Virgil froze. That sound was too familiar. On the other side of the screen, Roman hushed Virgil with a soft "Shhhh...."

Virgil stayed frozen. 

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Virgil's breath hitched in his throat as his heart pounded with the bullets.

As if nothing had happened, Roman continued on with the conversation. "You know... we should hang out some day, Knight. You seem like a nice guy. Pretty face, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been caught up in exams for this past week, so sorry for my absence!! Thank you so much for all your comments on the last chapter too, I am honestly in tears from the feedback, I love y'all so much :')
> 
> This one was sorta strange to write, but I was proud of the Deceit/Remy flashback in the beginning. Not the best, but I'm trying, I swear haha
> 
> -alex :)


	3. In Fair California Where We Lay Our Scene, Part II

The flirtatious flare from Remy's eyes only a minute ago had disappeared in less than ten seconds, and it was clear Deceit was shocked by the sudden absence of joy in Remy's eyes. Almost as fast as the playful twinkle from Remy's face disappeared, a shadow of arrogance and intimidation clouded Remy's already cloudy eyes. What replaced the carelessness of his expression from moments ago was a look of determination intermingled with thought.

"I'm sure you're familiar with my business, Mr. Night," Remy began with a deadpan expression and serious tone.

Deceit eyed Remy competitively. "Of course," he answered, crossing his arms to appear more intimidating. "But I trust you realize that I am not afraid of you, Mr. Wake."

For the slightest bit of a second, Remy's lips tugged up in a minuscule smile. "Of course not." Remy's tone made something in Deceit squirm in an unpleasant way. "I'm merely here to offer a business deal."

Deceit's eyebrow quirked up with interest. He gestured for Remy to continue, and with a lift of a small smile, Remy did. 

"I realize you're a weaponry supplier?"

"Interested in any weapons?"

"I'm more interested in the supplier." 

"Your interest cannot be supplied."

"I thought as much."

Remy offered a smirk and a wink before returning back to his statement. "Well, moving on, to seriously answer your question, yes. I am interested in your supply. About an army's worth of it."

Deceit's eyebrows scrunched up together in thought. "May I ask why?"

Remy gave Deceit a mysteriously knowing look, full of knowledge. For the first time in their interaction, Deceit took full grasp of Remy's mind. Smarter than he looks. Much more dangerous than he acts.

"An army."

A pause. Deceit didn't know whether to laugh or to be afraid. He tried not to focus on the specifics of what Remy planned to do, so instead, he looked for what his business could earn.

"And suppose I agree? How do you plan on paying for this?"

"I'm a business man."

"A murderer," Deceit corrected.

Remy flashed him a look of warning. Deceit quieted immediately. The mysterious man in front of him shrugged and waved a hand in a dismissive gesture as if what Deceit had to say meant nothing. "As I was saying, I'm a business man. Money is not an issue, but loyalty is."

A hush fell over the two. It felt like the temperature fell to the floor.

"What do you mean?" Deceit spoke up cautiously.

Remy eyed Deceit up and down. With a sigh, the man pulled up his briefcase and pulled out a packet of paper, sliding it to Deceit condescendingly. 

Turning it so he could read, Deceit eyes the fine paper and the whispy print reading  _A Contract Of Partnership._

"I want you to be my supplier." Remy's eyes held a dangerous glint as he regarded Deceit like prey. "All the details are in the contract. You can read over them later on." As fast as it had appeared, the threat in Remy's eyes died down, revealing a soft glow of a smile. "For now, I must depart."

And just like that, Remy left, his shoes tapping down on the hardwood floor of the cafe. People stared after him, and those who did included Deceit. A sharp pang of numbness fell over the conman while the other left. 

Remy made him feel... inferior... disposable. 

He shoved those feelings aside with a surly expression and looked at the paper at the table. With furrowed eyebrows, he turned the page.

* * *

Virgil's never been unfamiliar with the noise of a gun. 

Virgil's never been unfamiliar with the silence after the trigger was pulled. 

Virgil's never been unfamiliar with the feeling of murder. 

But this time, the noise of the gun seemed louder, despite it being considerably quieter, having been heard from the other side of a phone call conversation. This time, the silence stretched on longer, filled with an eerie quiet the went unbroken. This time, the dread in his stomachs piled up.

Maybe it was the shocking revelation that the person he'd flirted with yesterday wasn't just an innocent charmer, but he was also a murderer. Maybe, it was the realization that men like Roman Prince could kill without the bat of an eye while having a completely normal conversation. Or maybe, it was the fact that he'd been so used to death that he could hear the sound from miles away.

"You cool there, Knight?"

The fuzzy sound of Roman Prince's question made Virgil jump up in shock. The conversation was still on. "Y-Yeah," Virgil stuttered uncertainly, feeling queasy to the core.

He could  _feel_ Roman's smirk. "You sure?" A pause, filled only by the sound of footsteps on cement and metal against metal. "Oh, was it the gunfire?"

Virgil bit his lower lip. "No, it's just a little cloudy out— of course it's the fucking gunfire!" He swept his fingers through his ebony hair.

"Oh.You know, you're the last person I'd ever expect to be uncomfortable in gunfire." Confusion was apparent in Roman's voice, but the confusion was soon replaced with a steely tone. "It happens."

Virgil's eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "I'm a smuggler," he stated. "I provide people with weaponry and keep my hands clean of blood. People like you do the dirty work, I just sneak in the rags."

"Either way," Roman's voice coolly drawled, "we've both done shit things. We were basically meant for each other."

Despite himself, Virgil couldn't hold off his smirk at the statement. With a bite of his tongue, Virgil let out a low chuckle. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Princey."

"Pet name status?" Virgil could feel the grin from the other phone. "I don't oppose to that. We can be Bonnie and Snyde!"

"You mean Clyde?" 

"No, I don't."

Virgil laughed, somehow enjoying the chat with the enemy's son. Somewhere, deep in his mind, Virgil could hear a voice reminding him he was fraternizing with the enemy. It was drowned out by another voice which insisted that Roman wasn't the enemy. He was just... an offspring of the enemy. Even to Virgil, the excuse sounded weak and unsteady, but the charm of the teen who he was talking to convinced him it was fine. 

"Well," Roman continued, drawling off the vowel in the word childishly, "I've just finished my chores for today."

The successor of the Knight family raised an eyebrow, knowing full well Roman couldn't even see the gesture. "You call that a chore?" He asked, shocked at the casual tone of Roman's voice but his voice kept steady.

"Nope," the other teen answered, popping the  _p._ "Not until now, I didn't, but you called it dirty work, so I figured it would be basically the same thing."

"What do you usually call it?"

"Murder."

Virgil felt dumb. "Oh."

A laugh. "Yeah. Kinda the family business. I only do it like... twice every two weeks, given that I have all these assassins at my disposal, but this one—" the Prince's voice took a dark turn "—I wanted to do by myself."

The Knight decided not to press on. He remained quiet, hoping for a few seconds of processing and silence. He got some, but it was soon interrupted by Roman's voice once more.

The echo had stopped, and sounds of people were muffled on the line. An open space, Virgil guessed. An open space filled with people. "You wanna hang out today?"

To say the Knight child was surprised would be an understatement. Virgil visibly jumped with shock before catching himself and thanking whatever gods there were for not letting Roman see what a mess he currently was.

"W-What?"

He heard Roman's clothes shift I  a shrugging motion. "Yeah. I'd imagine being known as the successor of a powerful smuggling business as old as a hundred years takes a toll on your ability to make friends, yeah? I think you'd be a relatable friend." 

Virgil snorted. "Pfft, sure. Hashtag  _just mafia children things,_ am I right?" 

Roman laughed. "See? You get it!" Virgil grinned. "Besides, just because we're children of enemy mafias doesn't mean my flirts from last night meant nothing." Virgil couldn't see it but he just knew Roman had a shit-eating grin on. "You have a cute face. And butt. You're cute, but like... in a hot way."

His face flared red, but trying (and failing) to keep his voice calm, Virgil quietly muttered, "You could kill me."

"Trust me," Roman laughed. "I won't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, I'm sorry this took so long to update!! I was a bit busy with the holidays and all, and I wasn't really feeling it when I had free time. I'll try to get myself to update better haha
> 
> I hope you all had a happy holiday, by the way!! Mine could have been better, and I hope you all had one that was better than mine. 
> 
> By the way, I tried meditating today, and it was kind of refreshing, hah. Y'all got any tips for me lol
> 
> Pfft, moving on, how do you all like the deceitxremy in the beginning??? I'm not proud of this chapter as much as I was in the previous ones, but I am pleasantly surprised I finished it lmao. Give me some needed feedback!!
> 
> Anyhows, happy holidays!! I'll try to reply to comments, questions, and anything really!
> 
> -alex


	4. In Fair California Where We Lay Our Scene, Part III

It would be later that night in the early 1920s when Deceit read over the papers given to him by the mysterious (and infuriatingly charming) Remy. 

Everything written on the carefully put together book seemed orderly and clear, and while the long line for his signature was placed on the last page, Deceit felt as if the papers themselves had already chosen for him. He felt his hand around a cold pen as the conman reasoned with himself.

The papers had stated he couldn't do a few things. These included making and distributing weaponry to a party outside of Remy's. Sure, that could put him back a few, but it would only be a small price to pay, seeing as how Remy did control the majority of those he supplied. Only a few hundred dollars lost for refusing to take money from out of party groups. Money that could be replaced handsomely by Remy.

After all, it was all just for the profits.

The specifics of the partnership only contained small do's and don't's, and Deceit found himself being able to put up with the demands. Shrugging to himself as he finished reviewing the contract for who knows the amount of times, Deceit let his hand guide his pen on the paper. 

When he lifted the pen, his signature looked at him almost tauntingly. In elegant letters, pressed darkly on the paper was  _Deceit Night._

...

Remy watched Deceit crossed his warm office, eyebrow arched and smirk prominent on his sharply accented face. Deceit had decided to come to him after all. 

With shoulders squared and gaze confident, Deceit reached his large desk, mouth brought to a thin line. Remy played with his pen.

"So...?" the criminal leader drawled on, fidgeting with the thin pen he held in his hands. "You got something I want, pretty boy?"

Deceit squinted at the man subtly. "Depends on what you want," he responded dryly. 

Remy replied with a laugh and a smile. He had to admit, it was fun to mess with someone who didn't like being messed with. And besides, the conman was sorta cute. "I want a lot of things. It's your choice if you want to give them to me."

Deceit rolled his eyes— a gesture unfamiliar with Remy. Usually, people were too scared of him to hold up well enough for joking quips and insults. With a sigh, Deceit put the packet of paper on the desk. Remy gave it a small, dismissive glance before turning his head up to Deceit again. He let out a smirk. 

"Business partners." Remy said it as if testing out how it sounded in his tongue. "Yes. I like the sound of that."

Deceit let himself stare at the man. "I'd be concerned if you didn't."

Remy froze, and Deceit felt as if he'd just done something wrong. Remy's grin widened. "Was that a joke?" the man asked gleefully. "Oh my god, did you just say a joke? We need to celebrate this."

Deceit couldn't help but smile, but just as he'd let the smile form, he killed it. Remy stared at him with a curious and amused expression. Deceit stared back, confused. It wasn't long when Remy's childlike joy reformed to a sultry gaze.

Deceit gulped, feeling his face become hot and stuffy. Remy just smiled back. "Yes," Remy smiled, keeping his mouth parted just a little even after the word left his tongue. "Celebrated. What do you say about heading to a nearby bar with me, Mr. Night?"

Those eyes were trained on Deceit like a hawk. A particularly  _hot_ hawk with dazzling honey brown eyes and long doll-like eyelashes. Deceit swallowed. "I don't oppose."

* * *

Virgil didn't know why he'd agreed to this.

Quite frankly, he questioned his own sanity.

The direct descendant of the great Deceit Night stood in front of the all-too-cheery ice cream parlor next to the sunny beach in a dark purple shirt and ripped black jeans, a small voice in his head screaming at him for agreeing to basically go out with the direct descendant of the traitorous Remy Wake. His feet felt just as heavy as his thoughts as he swallowed and stared at the suddenly very intimidating building. 

If he walked in there, he was disobeying the unsaid rules of the family. He'd probably be the first family failure. But...  _Roman_ was in there. Wait— since when did that matter?

Virgil weighed his options. Worst case scenario, he'd end up dead in a ditch, bringing dishonor to everything he'd ever come across and putting an end to the Knight reign of criminal power. Best case scenario: he'd have a good time and nobody would ever know! 

Virgil debated just walking away. He debated taking careful steps into the crowd behind him and walking back home to delete Roman's number from his phone, slipping under his bed covers and never coming out.

Virgil was never really good at debates.

With a nervous sigh and a shakey laugh, Virgil walked into the parlor, face pulled in an uncertain grimace. Above the glass doors he had just pushed open, a small ringing of a bell signaled his entering.

He scanned the crowd. Despite there being quite a crowd outside the parlor, few people were inside. A little girl sat in the front booths with an older man who Virgil guessed was her father. Four people waited in line in the counter for their ice creams, barely staring at Virgil's gloomy appearance. In one of the most discreet booths sat a teen about his age wearing circular rimmed glasses and a bright blue tie. 

No Roman in sight. Maybe he hadn't arrived yet. Virgil shrugged, walking into the parlor with his expression held neutral.

Almost immediately, Virgil felt a hand quickly but softly grab his arm and pull him into a secluded booth at the back. Instinctively, Virgil's eyes widened and his heart sped up. Adrenaline pierced his body. With a swift repositioning of his arm, Virgil pulled his arm free and pinned the person who'd pulled him to the booth to the wall, arm pinning the person's neck.

"Whoa! Easy there, Virgil!"

Virgil's anxiety-induced adrenaline faded off as he recognized the teen who'd grabbed him. Roman sat pinned with an impish grin, wearing a more casual outfit consisting of a red and white letterman jacket and a white shirt with light blue jeans. 

Virgil let out a breathy sigh, recognizing Roman's vibrant face before letting his arm drop from the teens neck. "Roman, what the fuck?"

Roman laughed, melodic and deep, combing his hand through light hazel locks. "Sorry," Roman apologized sheepishly, offering Virgil an apologetic grin.

Virgil waved the apology away with a dismissive hand. "Jesus Christ, you scared the  _shit_ out of me, you moron!" He let himself throw a light punch at his company. 

Roman raised an eyebrow. " _I_ scared  _you?_ " Virgil's face heated up. "You literally shoved me onto a wall!"

"Well, you were the one who pulled me into a  _secluded_ area of the parlor!" Virgil rolled his storm gray eyes. "You cannot expect me to be all calm and dandy when a stranger basically pulls me into the perfect place to kill me."

Roman's face pulled into a grin. "True, true," he surrendered. "I could've done that better."

"No kidding. Why'd you even do that, anyway?" 

For a millisecond, something dark flashed across Roman's eyes, and as a trained liar himself, Virgil already figured out the other was being untruthful by the time Roman had covered up the flash with an actors mask. "I was just excited," Roman simply answered.

The voices in Virgil's emo mind warred at the lie. Should he call Roman out on his bluff? Should he put the lie aside and have himself a good time? He  _did_ agree on a date and not on some interrogation. _Besides_ , Virgil convinced himself,  _he's the son of a mafia leader. Of course he's going to have some secrets he doesn't want you to know._

Deeming the argument reasonable, the considerably pale teen shrugged and slipped a fake smile on his face, silently assuring Roman he was fooled by the blatant lie. "Oookay," Virgil drawled. "Well, this is an ice cream parlor.... Shouldn't we actually order something?"

"Right... Right!" Roman stood from the booth, making his way to the parlor counter. He turned to face Virgil. "I will, uh, be right back with the menu! Stay seated, dollface!"

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "Dollface?" he questioned with a smirk.

Roman raised a competing eyebrow in return. "Are pet names not allowed?"

"No, no! I like it. It just caught me off guard, is all. It's not every day someone greets the son of an underground weaponry supplier with a term of endearment."

Roman shrugged. "Well—" Roman winked "— get used to it because there's no stopping me now, dollface."

Virgil couldn't help the blush that spread through his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh... I am extremely dissatisfied with this chapter, and I'm sorry that it isn't the best chapter to start off the new year in.
> 
> I've been meaning to update earlier, but there has been absolutely no spark of inspiration, and I can only do so much with only a few hours of sleep a night and some personal problems.
> 
> I kinda feel like I focused more on the Deceit and Remy thing in the beginning more than anything else, and that's not intentional, by the way. I actually, finished up the Dremy part of the chapter somewhere around new years because I felt like writing, and I originally planned to make the Roman and Virgil part like a few thousand words, but when it came to writing it, I just... kinda... didn't feel like writing, and because of that, the dremy part was way better than the Prinxiety part.
> 
> I promise I'll try to do better on the next chapter because I'm really not proud of this one. 
> 
> Love all all so much,  
> Alex


	5. From Ancient Grudge Break To New Mutiny

One drink.

Deceit promised himself one drink.

He was never really good at keeping his own personal promises. 

And that probably would lead to the death of him.

The liar didn't know how he found himself in the front porch of his considerably large home, or how he found himself slammed on that porch wall ferociously by the assassin he accepted the invitation to the bar to.

But he wasn't complaining when said assassin took him by the collar of his suit and stole his breath with a harsh but slow kiss, burning heat spreading over his face.

He wasn't complaining when Remy took his keys and opened the door to his home, hurriedly throwing them both into the long hallway of the home without breaking contact.

He wasn't complaining when Remy's hands trailed his body gently, calloused hands moving up from Deceit's stomach to Deceit's hair and messying it up. Deceit definitely found himself mirroring the gesture, stepping back and leading his new business partner to the living room.

Remy broke the kiss, panting. He kept himself at a distance about an arm's length from the other man.

And that's when Deceit began to complain.

"Why'd you stop?" He demanded, leaning more towards missing the warmth of Remy's lips than being angry. Deceit noted how he sounded like a child, but he disregarded that thought.

Remy only laughed. "You're drunk," he answered, smirking gently and placing his pale hand on Deceit's chest to hold the other man from coming closer.

"So?" Deceit whined.

Remy's smirk only grew sharper, more amused. "So," the flirt began, "your senses are muddled by alcohol. You won't remember this in the morning and you'll think I did something a _gentleman_ wouldn't do."

Deceit rolled his eyes and huffed. "Oh, _please_ , you've been staring at my ass all day, I hardly think this is the first time you're not being a gentleman."

Remy laughed, his voice deep but still sing-song, like a siren's opera. "Hun, that doesn't change the fact that you won't remember this the next morning."

Deceit rolled his eyes once more. "I think I'll remember when I fuck someone or not, Rem. Definitely not forgetting this in a day."

Remy raised an eyebrow at the nickname but didn't say anything about it. Instead, he shrugged.

"Then prove it." Remy leaned to Deceit, just close enough to have their breaths intermingled and warm the space between the men. "If you remember what happened this morning, I'll make it up to you."

With that, Remy pulled back, pushing his company to a nearby couch. Deceit sighed, grumbling as he laid down and closed his eyes. "You sleeping at my house?" Deceit asked, his voice sounding in what Remy dared call an offer.

Remy beamed. "I thought you'd never ask."

Remy joined Deceit on the couch, laying over his chest. The hitman felt the warmth of Deceit's blush and smiled. "Got a problem with this?"

"N-Not at all."

"Good. I'm not planning on moving."

Barely above a whisper, Remy could make out what sounded a lot like "I don't want you to."

* * *

Virgil had lost track of time. 

One moment he was at the ice cream parlor with... his designated archnemesis/friend/maybe more(?) and the next moment, it was sunset and he was strolling along the streets of Los Angeles, shoulders touching Roman's side with Roman's arm around him.

Every so often, Virgil and Roman would look around with their trained eyes, scanning the people they came across subtly, but criminal kid habits died hard, Virgil guessed. 

It was only when Virgil's phone vibrated in his pocket when he grew conscious of how much time had passed since he first saw Roman this day. 

Pulling Roman's arm over himself to release his body from the larger teen's grasp, Virgil stopped on the spot to check his notification.

A single text from his father, under their designated code names.

_**Crofters, 6:43 PM** _

_Where are you?_

Eyebrows furrowing, Virgil typed out a response.

**_Thundercloud, 6:45 PM_ **

_Near the hospital up north of the house. Why?_

_**Crofters, 6:46 PM** _

_We're having a problem with the delivery truck up north, at the abandoned parking garage. I'll send you the address. Fix it._

_[Sent: image attachment]_

_**Thundercloud, 6:47 PM** _

_Ok._

_**Crofters, 6:46 PM** _

_Stay safe, Stormcloud._

Virgil sighed and turned to Roman to find that Roman had also pulled out his phone, typing into it with a neutral expression. "Hey, Ro, I gotta get somewhere."

Roman looked at him, seemingly distracted with his eyes looking distant. "Oh, yeah, I have to go too. Need a ride?"

"I'm good, I have my car at the parking lot of the ice cream parlor. See you around?"

Roman grinned, a subtle mischievous look in his glinting hazel eyes. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Sweetheart. You'd better bet your cute lil butt you'll see me around!"

Virgil returned the smile. "Stop looking at my ass, you freak."

Roman snorted. "Drive safe."

And with those words, the two parted. Virgil speed-walked to the corner, breaking off into a fast run to his car as he rounded the corner, and in no time, the young Knight had gotten himself in the car, changing into much more fitting clothes for a mission and throwing a black jacket over his light wear and speeding off, address punched in his car and pedals pressed.

...

The illuminating city lights turned to a blur while Virgil, dressed in shadow attire, stepped on the pedals of his car, expertly avoiding other cars while out driving them. He made a sharp turn into a shady garage, parked the car in a darkly lit corner outside, and stepped out, walking into the dark garage while he covered the lover half of his face with a cloth.

As promised, a weaponry exporting truck belonging to the underground Knight business stood in the middle of the garage, seemingly abandoned of any drivers. The only source of light were two beams coming from the headlights of the still-on truck. 

Virgil cautiously got closer, storm eyes flashing back and forth from the truck to his surroundings. The garage seemed empty enough, silent with the exception of the soft padding of his gentle feet on cold concrete.

The experienced liar moved closer, formulating a fun in his mind if any unsuspecting person were to find him on his current situation. Of course, he could always take out the gun from his belt holster if things got severe, but Virgil doubted his sharp tongue wouldn't be able to get him out of anything.

Confident that the garage was empty, Virgil moved to the drivers seat of the truck, keeping his footsteps light and his eyes trained to watch for any suddenly movement. He hoisted himself up to the window. It was fogged from the inside.

The Knight child was halfway to moving his hand up to wipe away the humidity gathered on the glass when he caught it.

A blur of a shadow, dashing across from his peripheral vision. It was far enough from Virgil to let the boy safely assume that the shadow was either observing from afar or had a far-range weapon.

Virgil froze, forming assumptions in his racing mind. Possibly far-range weapon, light steps, and ability to use the dark to their advantage. The lack of noise seemed almost inhumanlike. 

Of course, there was always the possibility that Virgil had imagined the running figure, but he doubted it. At times like this, his anxiety was his best weapon and greatest defense. Trusting his anxiety was a must.

 _There are two ways to deal with this,_ Virgil reasoned with himself.  _Confrontation or direct action._

Making up his mind, Virgil took a sharp intake of breath and attempted to mask his racing panic with an impressively executed apathetic expression. He deepened his voice and kept his hands sturdy, no more than a subtle three inches from his gun.

"Who's there?"

A gunshot echoed through the garage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okok hi yes hello! I'm back!!
> 
> So, I have a pretty rough idea of where this story is going to go, and creative ideas aren't that much of a problem for me right now, so that's great news! Expect better story telling after this chapter because I'm honestly so pumped it's like my creativity is high right now I can even.
> 
> Really, the only thing that's working as a problem now is my poor time management and lack of motivation and stress.
> 
> School work is honestly hell right now, and I'm dying, but that's okay I'm good and I'll be requesting a class change so it'll be easier for me! As for motivation, I'm very confident in conquering that. 
> 
> For stress, though, it' honestly my biggest problem. With social going on's irl and all, I get pretty caught up in the stress and I'm trying to make it so I actually de-stress well enough to at least get five hours of sleep at night, ya know? I'm getting a fish tank in my room because it's supposed to help with stress and everything, too so yay
> 
> Honestly, the most relevant thing you can get from this is that I'm working towards a better lifestyle and with that, I'll be able to make time and everything for more and longer updates! 
> 
> Haha I know I've been neglecting to update for a while but ya know. I'm trying :')
> 
> Everything I've been putting into the story so far has a meaning if you all look close enough--  
> There's a lot of surprises packed into these chapters so far, I'm just going to say t h a t 
> 
> Okok I'm rambling haha  
> Have a great day/night/afternoon/time doesn't exist!  
> -alex


	6. From Ancient Grudge Break To New Mutiny, Part II

Deceit woke with a start to the sound and smell of someone making breakfast in his kitchen, a pounding pain in his head and the smell of alcohol fresh on his chapping lips. He groaned in the sudden recollection of very few memories that surfaced from last night and cringed at the images in his mind that had surfaced.

Remy. It started off with Remy, and it ended with Remy.

One pushy drink to another, the growing feeling of not being in control, and... oh dear god, there was a kiss. Multiple kisses, actually. Deceit's finger found itself touching his cold and slightly swollen lips as he forced himself to remember more.

Other than multiple messy kisses, Deceit couldn't recall much of what else happened, but the sound of jingling keys being absentmindedly rammed into his doorknob from last night triggered the feeling of Remy shoving him to his porch wall.

He tugged his half unbuttoned dress shirt up to find a bruise from when Remy had shoved him to the porch wall. Just below multiple other little purple colored patches that snaked up to his neck. 

He was sure those weren't bruises.

He almost laughed at the hickeys before the realization of last night struck him right at his chest.

Holy fuck, he kissed Remy. Holy shitfuck he kissed Remy. What the shit did he do. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

 _There was definitely something else,_ Deceit pressed himself, a lost memory tugging at his mind.  _Something really important._

Failing to recall, Deceit groaned and stood, making his way to his kitchen sink at the request of his dry mouth. His drowsy steps to the kitchen were interrupted by the sudden crash of what sounded to be a pot hitting the hardwood. He froze.

"...Hello?"

The mess of Remy's brown hair popped out from the kitchen, smiling sheepishly as it did so, wavy curls bouncing down his pale face. "Sorry, hun, did I wake you?"

Deceit's entire existence imploded inside of him. "...why are you still in my house?" His throat was dry, and his words were hollowed and laced with dread.

Remy merely laughed, a knowing look in his sparkling colorful eyes. The mafia leader bit his lip with a suppressed giggle as he asked, "I suppose you don't remember?"

Deceit was most definitely forgetting something very important if his business partner was reminding him. The look in his slightly tanned face said it all.

Remy stepped closer, shaking his head with an amused chuckle as he did, slow steps making agonizing creaks on the hardwood floor. Deceit gulped, wanting to put distance between himself and Remy but not being able to move his feet. 

"It's a shame," Remy shrugged, face lit up with mischievous amusement, raising a hand to carress Deceit's cheek before letting it fall again. "You were really adamant and insistent about remembering. Oh, well." He shrugged again. "What _do_ you remember, hun?"

Deceit didn't know how to respond to that at all. His eyebrows furrowed into concern and then dread and then sadness and then.... a flurry of mixed emotions one can't describe. 

Deceit let himself sigh exhaustedly, opting to joke instead of overreact. Besides, even if drunk, Deceit trusted his intuition. If he let this man into his home... well, chances are he trusted him enough with his body. Chuckling slightly, he replied, "I remember you shoving me into a wall, you uncivilized freak."

A look of shock formed on Remy's face before he laughed at the sudden joke. "You really are something, Dee."

Deceit found a piece of home in the laugh, and with newfound confidence, he continued, "I remember a lot of fuzzy details from last night. Messy kisses and alcohol breaths, mostly. Based on the purple marks on my neck, I'm guessing you're a sucker."

"Sucker for boys, of course," Remy stated, making Deceit snort. It was only a minute later when Remy's face contorted to a silent question, but it was hard to decipher what it was asking. 

"...What?" 

"...Aren't you scared?"

Deceit laughed. "Please, don't flatter yourself, Mr. Wake. You may control assassins, but I doubt—"

"No," Remy interrupted, his shoulders slouching the slightest bit of— was that shame? "I meant... what happened. Last night. We kissed."

Confused, Deceit raised an eyebrow. "You're not my first kiss, Mr. Wake."

Remy seemed to roll his eyes at the comment, but his expression seemed more amused than annoyed at Deceit's obliviousness. Deceit, however, felt stupid under the other's patronizing gaze. "No," Remy laughed. "I meant our, uhm,  situation."

...was this about the whole partnership? Of course, the boss to provider relationship was kind of weird, yeah, but it didn't seem like an issue. So he worked for Remy, what was the problem? "You're... my first boss?" Deceit stated unsurely.

Remy fixed him with a stare, emotionless, but not a genuine numb look. It looked more like he was trying to hide his actual feelings. Slowly, Remy asked, "Am I your first boy?"

Oh.  _Oh._ This was about  _that._

A silence overtook the room. It was hard to tell what Remy was thinking, but as a liar, it wasn't hard for Deceit to see that Remy was trying to conceal his emotions behind that white mask of a face.

Maybe it should have been clear, but to Deceit, it didn't really matter. Of course, being queer wasn't very encouraged, but it didn't matter for someone of his class. Being rich and powerful? What could people do if they even found out? Yell profanities at him? 

But looking at Remy's frown and the not completely hidden look of fear and nervousness in his kaleidoscope eyes, Deceit found it hard to say that Remy's nervousness wasn't justified. 

The gang leader seemed genuinely afraid when it came to the realization that Deceit knew his well-guarded secret, and the terror on his face was enough to make Deceit want to do anything to make Remy feel safe.

But for now, to reassure.

"You're not. Not my first boy, I mean." Deceit said it comfortingly, smiling softly at the assassin. "You shouldn't flatter yourself, Mr. Wake."

Remy smiled.

* * *

In all his life, Virgil had never thought he'd face anyone who got close to his level of skill, much less surpass it.

Since the tender age of four, Virgil had trained to lie and fight. He'd mastered full control of his facial expression, could cry and laugh on demand, and he'd learned how to lie with the information given to him. 

Virgil had been taught all the types of guns and how to load and shoot them. He'd been taught how to navigate the underground business and how to use his money to his advantage when dealing with corrupt politicians and the crumbling justice system. 

Virgil was the perfect liar. He was the best assassin he knew. Until this one.

The gunshot echoed through the garage, but outside, the loud noise was silenced by the sound of passing cars. Virgil followed his adrenaline, running away from the truck that carried the weapons of trade and behind a large support beam. 

Virgil checked himself for any wounds to find that the bullet had missed him. Without a second thought, the trained Knight took the pistol from his gun holster and loaded. The familiar click of the gun echoed through the empty space as he quietly launched himself from the support column he was hiding at to behind another support column. 

Virgil waited in silence, listening for the slightest sound to indicate where his shooter was.

_Silence._

_Silence._

_Silence._

_Click._

Probably four yards to Virgil's right. A distinct sound of a gun being loaded, much more quiet than any big weapon. Probably a hand gun. 

With this information, Virgil wasted no time rolling out and blindly shooting to where his instincts told him to, the precise located where the click was heard.

The loud noise made the small teen flinch, but the sharp intake of breath followed by the low growl made it known that Virgil had, indeed, missed. Not only that, but his attacker was angry.

With widening eyes, Virgil ran behind another column, quick to run from the continuous bullets that echoed to where he was just standing. 

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

Virgil flinched with each sound. 

Reloading his gun, Virgil's anxiety flashed up when the gunshots stopped and an eerie silence engulfed the garage once more. Blinking to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, Virgil breathed slowly, inhaling and exhaling to calm his rapidly beating heart. 

In a risky move, Virgil abandoned his column to search for the shadow assassin, spotting said assassin with a gun in his hands. Blindly aiming for the assassin's gun, Virgil shot, miraculously not missing the gun and disarming the assassin with a lucky shot.

Before he could even think twice about what he was doing, the young Knight stood and ran straight for the assassin, lunging at the figure and shoving them to the floor, losing his own gun in the process. 

The assassin rolled out of his grasp, and the two fought each other in locks, a tangle of arms trying to grasp each other in place in the dark, eyes blazing with shared adrenaline. 

The shuffling on the concete floor stopped when they hit a wall, both fighters making their way up. Virgil, heart pounding, made a desperate move to shove his attacker down to the floor and hold them down, but the action backfired when the person he'd tried to trap twisted his arm and ended up trapping him down in a lock instead. 

Virgil struggled against the lock, his desperate breathing turning into desperate growls which turned into deep screams, a longing urge to be free from the attackers grasp taking on all his senses.

He stopped his barrage of screaming when he felt a cold blade press forcefully down his neck. Virgil whimpered, adrenaline fading, replaced by fear. 

 _"You will tell me who you are, you will tell me why you shot at me, and you will be honest with me,"_ his assassin demanded, a deep mix of a russian and french accent planted on the males throat. Virgil could tell the accent was fake, but the voice was strangely familiar.

Lacing his voice with a much better attempt at a French accent, Virgil defiantly spat, " _Why should I tell you anything?"_

The male stiffened at the sound of Virgil's voice shoving Virgil roughly on the concrete wall holding the boy in place but releasing the blade from his throat. Virgil grasped air at the blades removal before catching his attacker's eyes, the only part of his face that wasn't covered by a mask.

A shade of hazel, speckled with brown and amber and complimented by gold.

Virgil's attacker raised a hand that held the blade and stabbed it into the concrete wall. Frozen by fear, Virgil assumed it was a scare tactic, but he froze when he saw what the knife had scrawled out. 

_V?_

With a trembling voice, Virgil croaked, "...Roman?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sick mess right now because my dumb ass decided that going outside during the rain would be a wonderful idea. Spoilers: it wasn't. So, I'm basically a coughing, snotty loser right now and I'm convinced I'll die :')
> 
> In other news, my math and science teacher thought it would be real nice to schedule a test on Tuesday so y'all pray for me bc I dont think i can make it lmaooo
> 
> Oh god, I'm hoping I die before my test lol kill me
> 
> Anyhows!! I've got a very good idea for my next chapters and y'all are in for the ride of your lives holy heckfuck my dudes
> 
> Btw sorry if the action scenes suck lmaooo I can't write action for shit 
> 
> Anyway I need to go cough my heart out for a while see y'all layer ily
> 
> -alex

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I'm trying a new idea I've had for a while now, and I hope you like it so far, I know I am! I'm having a stellar time messing around with this story, and... well, I hope you're enjoying it just as much as I am!
> 
> Please don't forget to review the story. It really helps my self esteem, and it also helps me improve too! I'm always a slut for that constructive criticism. 10/10 would compliment again!
> 
> I also have a Tumblr (https://skittlesun.tumblr.com) which you should follow because I crave that attention and more followers gives me the feeling of validation haha
> 
> If you have a picture of your pet snake (or pet in general) or a really weird picture, please message me on my Tumblr because I'm always down for pet pictures and weird photos. 
> 
> Til next time!  
> -alex


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